The Price of a Haircut
by iviscrit
Summary: "He reached for his glasses. With his reflection in sharp focus, he could see what Kuvira had meant. His shoulders were broader than they had been; his chest was well-defined. The new hair, with its shaved sides and back, lent a squareness to his jaw that suited his new build better than the old." Why'd Junior change his style? Kuvira made him, duh. Baavira. Oneshot. R&R pls.


_I just want excuses to write Baavira. During the three-year time skip, Baatar got hella swole, switched to hipster chic glasses, and changed his hair to something more Kuvira-approved. This oneshot addresses all of this...with shameless fluff because OTP._

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><p>"Damn."<p>

It was hot. The sun was blistering overhead, and a few of Kuvira's officers had requested to stop just outside the boundary of one of the western states. It bordered a river, and a brief walk upstream from the train track brought them to a waterfall. The water level of the pool beneath it was considerably lower during the summer months, but it still proved a respite from the heat. Baatar was reluctant to leave the cool stream and return to the stifling heat of the camp, and had stayed behind, alternating between treading water in the deeper parts of the pool and standing on one of the jutting rocks beneath the waterfall. A year ago its force might have knocked him over, but now he poised himself under the torrential downpour, enjoying the water rushing over his shoulders and head. Being a part of Kuvira's army was as physically taxing as it was mentally taxing, but he had taken on the physical demands as welcome changes from perennially poring over his blueprints and calculations. Varrick had taken over the technological side of things, leaving him more time for logistics, infrastructure, and architecture, as well as increasingly rigorous workouts. Sometimes Kuvira joined him, though he knew she preferred to exercise alone. He preferred it too; her presence made things difficult. Bars suddenly seemed heavier, his spatial orientation became nonexistent, and his self-consciousness infinitely magnified. She had asked him to spot her, once, and he nearly dropped the bar on her chest as she completed a finisher set. Blushing furiously, he had apologized, thankful that she seemed more amused than angry with the incident. Baatar enjoyed the new feeling of strength and endurance, but had given little thought to what changes the weight room had brought to his appearance. Until, that is, Kuvira drew attention to them.

He turned in the direction of her voice and slipped, clumsily falling from the rock. He returned to the surface, spluttering. "Are we moving out?" he asked, swimming to shallow waters and standing once the water was just below his chest. "Sorry if I delayed everything-"

"No, we're not leaving just yet," Kuvira said with amusement. "Don't get out on my account." Her hair was braided tightly down her back and her face glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. Baatar guessed it was from the heat and the weight room; she wore a snug, sleeveless white top and short trousers in place of her usual armor. If not for their location, she might have been returning from a dance practice back in Zao Fu as she had so many times in the past, eyes bright and a proud set to her shoulders.

"I've been here long enough," he said, shrugging. "I may as well dress-"

"That would be a shame," Kuvira said, still smiling as her eyes narrowed. "I never did get to see what progress you made since you nearly killed me-"

"That was an accident!"

"-an accident that nearly killed me," she said. "I had no idea... if I can bench my weight, you can probably curl it. Dropping that bar must have been an attempt at assassination."

"You're ridiculous," he scoffed, turning his back partly for emphasis and partly to hide his flush. Despite the cool water, he felt hot. "It would be much easier to tamper with the safety of your train car if I wanted you gone. It would look like a complete accident, too."

"No, but really," she pressed, wading in, "how much can you bench now? 300? 320?" She slipped and cried out as she landed in the water, drenched to her neck.

Baatar laughed, wading over to help her up, but she had returned to standing on her own. Her attire was soaked through, and he tried to focus on her face. "About 350 by now," he said, swallowing. "I probably curl more than you weigh, too."

Kuvira placed her hands on his shoulders, running them lightly down the length of his arms. "140 isn't very impressive for your size."

He recoiled. "Well, substantially more than you weigh, then." He felt an odd combination of satisfaction and discomfort the longer she appraised him, unsure if she expected something of him or not. "Certainly no more than 160."

"Either way, there's no excuse to be such a poor spotter," she said, jabbing him in the chest sharply. "You're clearly not slacking off-"

"Can we get back to the camp?"

"-and you're clearly more than capable of spotting me-"

"Kuvira, we ought to get back, you should change-"

"Do not interrupt me." She placed her hands on her hips. "So. Why sudden bouts of incompetency?"

She was toying with him, he knew, but he failed to think of an adequate rebuttal. "How is that a fair question?" he sputtered at last, incredulity evident in his voice. "_You're_ the controlled variable here... when you're part of the equation everything goes to hell, and when you're removed I'm perfectly fine-"

"I'm teasing, Baatar," she said, grinning. "Don't take everything so seriously. To be perfectly honest..." She paused, regarding him approvingly. "You look good."

Her words were far from unwelcome, but it still took a fair amount of self-control to keep himself from sinking until the water was neck deep. "You've always looked good," he said softly, focusing his gaze at a point above her ear to avoid her eyes. For a moment he thought she blushed, but he couldn't be sure.

"Wait, I take that back," she said suddenly. "Your face seems wrong, somehow."

"Wrong?"

"Yes," she mused, suddenly against him and turning his face from side to side, grasping his chin. "I think it's the hair. It's so boyish, it makes your head too young for your body." She let go of his face, holding on to him by an arm casually draped over his shoulder, submerged to her waist as he was.

"It does?" he asked, trying to ignore her proximity. "Should I cut it? I've always been told it makes me resemble Father.."

"Do you want to resemble him?"

He frowned. "Not particularly.."

"Let's cut it then," she said, tugging on his hand as she hurried from the pool. "I'll do it myself." She stopped and looked back, smirking when she realized she had caught him staring. "That was an order, not a request."

"So _now_ it's urgent that we move out," he observed snidely, following her.

"No, now it's urgent that I cut your hair," she said, walking just ahead of him. "Now it's urgent that I make you look like your own person."

"Don't we have a barber?" She ignored him.

Before long, they reached the camp. Baatar found himself thinking their walk had ended far too soon.

"I'll come by your quarters in a few minutes," he said. "Just give me a moment to get dressed-"

"No, it's easier to cut hair when it's wet," she said easily. "Come with me."

"I'll ruin the woodwork if you don't let me change into dry clothes-"

"My furniture is metal."

"It'll rust?"

"It'll be fine." They had reached her door, and he hesitated as it shut behind him. Kuvira seemed completely at ease, pulling a towel from a cabinet and wrapping it around her waist, shimmying out of her soaked trousers under its cover. "Sit, Baatar." She gestured to a chair, tossing a towel to him and giving her braid a quick wring.

He sat, the towel around his hips. Kuvira rummaged through a drawer, finding scissors, a comb, and a razor. "What do you have in mind?"

"Something very military," she said, nudging his legs apart and stepping between them. "Hold still," she murmured, combing his hair back from his face and studying him thoughtfully for a few moments. "Got it. Close your eyes."

"While you're holding sharp instruments? No thanks," he said, grabbing her around the waist and pushing her away. "Why should I close my eyes, exactly?"

"You're facing a mirror," she said with irritation and amusement. "I want you to be surprised. Now _close your eyes._"

He exhaled slowly, shutting his eyes and pulling her to him. She seemed to fit against him so naturally, and he felt at ease as his hair began to fall. Kuvira worked in silence, turning his head this way and that as she trimmed. It wasn't until she had to attend to the back that he realized his hands hadn't left her waist.

"You need to let me go if you want the back to look good," she said with a chuckle.

"Sorry." He griped the sides of the chair, feeling the falling pieces of hair tickle his neck. Kuvira made a sound of approval.

"All right," she said, sounding pleased and clapping his shoulders from behind. "Open your eyes."

The face that looked back at him from the mirror was blurry, but he could already tell that he looked older. He reached for his glasses. With his reflection in sharp focus, he could see what Kuvira had meant. His shoulders were broader than they had been; his chest was well-defined. The new hair, with its shaved sides and back, lent a squareness to his jaw that suited the new build better than the old. "It's so different."

"Something still seems off," Kuvira said, frowning. She placed a finger under his chin, turning his face to hers. She was close enough to kiss, her face at just the right angle, and for a second Baatar debated making a move. "Got it," she said suddenly, whisking his glasses off his face. "The glasses don't suit the hair." She walked back to her place in front of him, stepping between his legs and holding him by the chin again. "The round frames are all wrong... I think a rectangle would suit you now."

"I'll leave you to find new frames for me," Baatar said, taking the glasses from her. "I prefer being able to see."

"I thought Su would have taught you manners," she said firmly. "You didn't even thank me for the haircut, and now you're demanding new frames?"

"Fine." Acting on a sudden impulse, he rested his hands on her hips. "How can I thank you?"

She leaned in and kissed him, to his surprise. "We'll start there. Go get dressed." She stepped back and smiled with amusement as he left her chair and walked to the door, still damp from his swim.

"Damn," he heard her say again, this time appreciatively, and he smiled even as he reddened. If this was the cost of new frames, it was worth it.

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><p><strong>AN: I ship it hard. Is it obvious? Ahhh pls pls let her show some affection towards him in the show! Drop me a review if you liked it. :)**


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